When will it end?
by Cossacks250
Summary: Just a quickie about how one of the characters views the turmoil that has engulfed their country in the present day.
**This is just a quickie about this Hetalia character and their take on the current events unfolding in one of the current war torn areas of the world.**

The wind is blowing harshly today, not that I'm complaining. In fact, the gentle breeze is something I welcome coming at me for once rather than having to duck and hide because of shrapnel or bullets. My long black hair, unkempt for a few days, blows in the wind and I scratch the bottom of my neck as I stare into the surrounding desert from the roof of the building I and several others have been stationed in; our location being outside Aleppo. It seems peaceful for now but shouldn't be too hopeful though. At some point today, the bombs will drop, guns will start firing and people will drop dead or be blown to bits. Anyone unfamiliar to what was going on here would be quite literally shitting themselves at the prospect of such things occurring but for me and the four soldiers below, it's just another day. _Huh, a normal day really._

Now, dear readers, I bet you are wondering: 'What on earth are you talking about? Why are you saying these things and regurgitating such abhorrent descriptions?' Well, I'll have you know that I'm simply just telling you what things are like here in Syria. Yes, you heard me correctly. That war torn country in the Middle East, one whose history spans thousands of years, witnessing the rise and fall of various empires and peoples such as the Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Crusaders, Ottomans, the Europeans colonisers and their allies to name a few. I had been there for a lot of it, not as the embodiment of a nation's people like I am now but more of a witness. I saw a great deal of change, some for worse, others for the better. It was never the easiest thing in the world to deal with but I got used to it. I mean, I had to. What else could I do?

Anyway, I'm getting off topic now, forgive me. As I stated, what is now known as Syria has had a lot to deal with, especially since after the Second World War we gained independence from the French. It looked like a grand new beginning with only prosperity and positivity. But then the Cold War and the tensions between the USSR and the USA began and _we_ were stuck right in the middle of it in one way or another, along with most of those around us. Plus, there were the fiascos with Israel and Egypt's Nasser and what have you. The twentieth century was _not_ an easy time for us, but we pulled through. Even when it looked like Saddam would turn the entire region into a quagmire in the 1990s, followed up with the Americans coming in just over a decade later to depose him. Even when there were fears that conflict would arise between Israel and Iran, we had still stayed strong.

Despite all of that, we made it through. I had made it through. _Huh, some historical events I can throw on my CV._ Imagine that: _Oh yes, I witnessed and participated in the Six Day War; I was involved with the maintaining the government when the Cold War went into full swing with US and Soviet Imperialism coming into the Middle East. Oh, and I personally saw action against Saddam's forces in Kuwait and Saudi Arabia._

What would they say?

Now … None of that really mattered. It hadn't for five years anyway. Five long damn years. In all that time, all of that history had been swept away in a cataclysm of blood, fire, death and destruction. Centuries of culture turned to dust, a people made up of many religions and cultures that once called this country home now had nothing and were left both divided and bitter towards each other or were on the run in Europe. Syria, once a place for its inhabitants to live happily and peacefully, and tourists to come and visit, particularly the ancient sites such as the one at Palmyra, had become the very definition of the word hellhole. And the worst part was; there seemed to be no end in sight.

I sigh heavily as I brush a bit of sand off my uniformed sleeves, coughing slightly as I tried to clear my throat. I was thirsty, we all were. We'd have to go and get some water later but only when the next group arrived to take over our shift, which would be … I take out my phone from my pocket and unlock the screen with my password. **12:32pm**. _Anytime now._ I'd be glad to get out of the sun. Even an Arab like myself can't stand this sort of thing all day and I couldn't go inside because, due to my nature of trying to keep an eye on everyone as I had done for God knows how long, I was keeping watch. I hated doing it at times because it became a detriment to my own health, but when you were doing this sort of thing for as long as I had, you would understand. Some of you may even wonder how the hell a woman can do this sort of thing in Syria. Well, I simply wasn't one for the house. After all, no one was going to be witness to and record all of the aforementioned historical occurrences and what have now would they.

I sit down on the floor and turn my head to the left for a few seconds and then to the right just so I can occupy my time. Nothing in both directions, unless you were keen on watching the desert in its entire pale yellowy colour, _then_ you could count the sand as something. _Maybe I should take up art lessons, draw the desert for a living._ As boring as that may sound, it suddenly dawns on me that such a thing wouldn't be that bad. After all, these deserts contained a lot of history and somehow it had to be recorded. Not everything had to be recorded through a book or the now cliché twenty first century method of taking a picture on one's phone. Why not add a little creativity into the mix?

I smile to myself at the thought. Yes, that would be nice. Just me and my pencils and/or paint. Or maybe even real sand like what some people do with art.

Loud talking momentarily draws my attention below to see two of the soldiers talking to a third in Arabic, all of them with AK-47's in straps around their shoulders. The fourth, I don't know where he is, probably inside. I wish _he_ would come up here and take over watch duty so I can get out of the sun for a minute. I hear them talking about the fighting in recent days. It's all the same. _Oh a bomb dropped here and killed so-and-so's family. Another gun fight between government and rebels happened down south and two died. Oh and militants are being driven back by the coalition and Russian's air strikes._

I shake my head in annoyance, fed up of hearing nothing but fighting all the time. If only we could think of the things that happened before the war took place, such as the births of new children, or strolls in the park, the work and rest and play of people every day. _Those_ were the good times. I try and think about them every now and then, really hard. I'm sure everyone else does as well but … *sigh* it just seems fate only wants to kick us between the legs once again.

Now that I think about it, though, I do wonder where all this will lead to considering the state Syria was in right now. I mean, we've had five years of constant fighting non-stop and it's basically been our own version of Iraq. We've had the US, the British, the French and whoever else imposing sanctions and, in the last two years, launching air strikes; the Russians and Iranians and Hezbollah propping up Assad (the first of these three having also recently gotten involved in air strikes as of last November); the Saudis, Qataris and other Gulf States supplying the rebels with the US supporting them and the Kurds taking control of the northern and north-eastern strips of the country. And, to top it all off, damn Jihadists have jumped into the quagmire and are now tearing what little is left of civilisation apart. Al-Nursa in the northwest, Jihadist groups across the north and centre and, most distinct of all, these bastards who call themselves 'Islamic State' have snatched the east and centre of Syria and are, or _were_ thankfully pushing west but are being forced back.

 _Add all that up and it's basically one big mess_ I remember telling myself for the umpteenth time. _And with no sign of slowing down, even with the ceasefire in place._

Stifling a yawn and spitting at the floor as a bit of sand blew into my face, I began to wonder if this would ever end, if this war would reach an inevitable conclusion. I hoped it would, I mean I had been there from the beginning of it. I had witnessed all hell break loose five years ago when both sides starting firing at each other in the waking months of the 'Arab Spring' that was sweeping across the Middle East and North Africa. People will of course debate who fired first, Assad or the rebels but what the hell does that matter. Either way, it's come down to this.

I can guess now that you are wondering; _What side are you on?_ Again, what did that matter? I may be wearing a government uniform but I was the physical flesh and blood embodiment of Syria itself, a witness to its highs and lows as well as everything in between. I didn't care for sides back then and, except when regarding the Jihadists, who need to be blown to smithereens, I still don't now. All I ever endeavoured to do in my life is make sure that my people lived and endured. It was quite literally my job after all.

 _Besides, somebody has to give them hope. If I don't who will? The countries outside Syria have screwed up all of that._

A loud, far off whooshing sound fills the air and I, along with the soldiers on the ground below, the fourth joining them, looked up to see a jet fly overhead heading in the direction of Raqqa. Even from my position on the ground and the glare of the sunlight above, I could see the Russian Air Force insignia on the bottom of the wings. Another attack would soon make its way across Syria, one of many. In a way, I did feel glad that Raqqa was being hit because it showed Islamic State that they were on the back foot and not this invincible war machine they thought they were. On the other hand, I wasn't looking forward to the images that would circulate on social media. I had seen enough of that and it made me feel sick. In fact, even the sight of a warplane at all made me feel that way.

As I looked away, trying to block out the sounds of the aircraft's engines, I did wonder about myself and if I would survive. _Would I?_ I'm still human after all and I didn't survive history without getting a few cuts and bruises along the way. I'm still as mortal as any other person here. Again, I mentally ask myself: _Will I make it through this civil war?_

The only answer I could come up with was: _If I don't, at least let it be quick._

Ha! Funny how we think of death at a time like this, as if it's a kind of innate nature that springs to mind when we find ourselves on the brink or our minds believe we are on the brink of it.

A car engine from behind makes me turn to look over my shoulder and I see a pickup truck carrying three more soldiers in the back and two in the front, all of them in government uniforms, driving towards us. I smile a little in relief. _Our shift is over, finally!_ Getting up, I walk over to the other side of the roof where a ladder is placed leading down to the ground.

Just before I start climbing it, I pause and look back in the direction the warplane went, once again thinking of what was going to happen in the next hour or two after its sortie was completed. For those involved in Raqqa, it was going to be a terrible and life-changing ordeal. For me and everyone else, including those in said city who were not going to be directly affected by the bombing however, it was just another example of the war raging in Syria and that it was far from over. I found myself asking the question; _When will it end? It just has to, right?_

"Hopefully soon," I mutter to myself before climbing down the ladder.

How long that 'soon' would be, though, was anyone's guess.


End file.
